


Ethos/Pathos/Logos

by jazzjo



Series: en garde (at your service) [2]
Category: All For One (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6954451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzjo/pseuds/jazzjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jeanne met Anne.</p>
<p>Or,</p>
<p>Rick Liu is a creep and Jeanne is a sabre-wielding knight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ethos/Pathos/Logos

“—and a voice keeps saying this is where I’m meant to be,” Jeanne allowed herself to sing along to the music pouring out of her earphones, on account of the empty street she was walking down. 

 

Her sabre was held loosely in one hand as the rest of her gear was slung over her shoulder in her training bag. 

 

The walk back to campus from her fencing club involved two hills, which was two more than she was prepared to face after the three-hour training session she had just endured. Her feet fought her efforts to raise them, each step heavy as she scaled the first hill. 

 

Jeanne swished the end of her sabre lightly in the air to the beat, her singing growing louder, “I know every mile will be worth my while. I will go most anywhere to feel like I be—”

 

A hand on her shoulder stopped Jeanne in her tracks, her free hand reaching up to pluck the earphones sharply from her ear as she whipped around, her grip on her sabre tightening. 

 

_Oh my word,_ Jeanne stopped short, her lips parting blankly, _that face is an honest to goodness work of architecture._

 

Her white knuckles flushed red as her grip loosened, the hilt of her blade falling to the ground with a metallic _thunk_. 

 

_Smooth_. 

 

Jeanne averted her gaze immediately, her eyes boring holes in the ground as she gingerly bent to pick up her sabre, straightening hesitantly. 

 

“I’m so sorry!” The girl before Jeanne apologised profusely, a pale blush blooming on her cheeks, “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that—”

 

She scuffed the toe of her flats against the ground, almost shyly, “This is awkward, but there’s my ex is coming up behind me and he’s been trying to get me to go out with him again for the past semester, and he won’t take no for an answer.”

 

Adjusting the strap of her bag against her shoulder, Jeanne looped her arm through the other girl’s, her hand hovering just beside hers.

 

“Do you go to Dumas?” Jeanne asked, suppressing a shiver as the girl laced their fingers together. 

 

The girl nodded, her head bobbing in the upper periphery of Jeanne’s vision, before muttering under her breath, “Doucherag, six o’clock.”

 

It took more self control than Jeanne thought she possessed to not turn and catch a glimpse of him. Instead, she released the girl’s right hand, wrapping her arm around her waist and entwining the fingers of their left hands. 

 

“Is that alright?” Jeanne asked softly, her cheeks burning. 

 

“That’s fine,” The girl’s smile was audible in her voice, “Thank you for helping me out. You didn’t have to.”

 

They continued the walk up the second hill in comfortable silence, Jeanne’s sabre gripped in her right hand loosely enough that the silhouette of a casual stroll was convincing enough, yet in position to attack at any given moment. 

 

“You’re not a freshman, I suppose?” Jeanne ventured, her sabre tapping nervous rhythms into her shin.

 

She nodded, the dark brown of her hair — a different kind of brown than Jeanne’s own, more red than black — slipping in and out of Jeanne’s view as it swayed, “Sophomore. I’m staying in the MST house. You?”

 

“It’s my first year,” Jeanne shrugged her shoulders lightly, “I’m a Mu Sigma Theta pledge.”

 

The girl chuckled, her laugh throaty and warm, “Jeanne, right? I’ve seen you around.”

 

The blush returned, Jeanne diverting her gaze downwards from where it had been tempted to gravitate towards the girl’s face, “Jeanne Treville, yes.”

 

Using her free hand, the girl lifted Jeanne’s chin with her index finger, beckoning her gaze.

 

“Anne Bonacieux,” She introduced as Jeanne took in her features once more, “It will be wonderful to have you as a Sigma sister, if this first interaction is anything to go by.”

 

_Those eyes were impossibly blue_. 

 

“I was not all that certain about pledging a sorority initially,” Jeanne admitted, “But I admire Mu Sigma Theta’s ethos, if not its commitment to putting its ideals into actions.”

 

She bit her lip immediately, afraid that she may have overstepped. 

 

“Don’t worry, I agree,” Anne assured her with a squeeze of their joined hands, “If there is anything I would love for MST to do better in, it would definitely be actually practising our feminist ideology. Our motto doesn’t mean anything if we don’t actually stand in solidarity with—”

 

“Anne!”

 

Immediately, Anne’s shoulders tensed and her step faltered. Jeanne ran her thumb in gentle circles over the back of Anne’s hand, her sabre steady in her other hand as heavy footsteps approached in a loping stride. 

 

“Enchantée, Mademoiselle Bonacieux,” The boy slurred his words in a weak attempt at a French accent as he stopped before both girls, facing Anne squarely and completely ignoring Jeanne’s presence, “What a lovely day it is for a stroll. Wouldn’t you like to ditch the frosh for someone you’re closer to in level?”

 

“Rick—”

 

“Come on, Annie,” Rick propositioned, “We had such a great time. I can show you the world in ways you’d never have a chance to yourself, baby.”

 

“I’m not interested, Rick,” Anne stated calmly, making to walk away with Jeanne until Rick took a step closer and lay his arm casually over her shoulder.

 

Jeanne’s weapon snapped up, the hilt finding its way squarely to the middle of Rick’s chest as she nudged him away.

 

“I believe the lady said no,” She said, the hilt pressing just enough to force him to take a step back, “And that will be all.”

 

“Oh, Annie’s got a queer little knight,” Rick taunted, pushing the hilt away from his chest, “She’s got fancy English and all that! How sweet. Does she know about your schoolgirl crush?”

 

“I do,” Anne smiled softly at Jeanne, “And I concur.”

 

Rick scoffed, a large violent punctuation, “She doesn’t know about how _naughty_ you’ve been, does she? Are you so sure she would want you then, Annie?”

 

Jeanne pressed the handle of her sabre into Anne’s free hand before she unlaced their fingers. Her palm flattened solidly against Rick’s shoulder, pushing him back further as she stalked forward.

 

“Now you listen, and you listen good,” Jeanne bit out fiercely, “There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that could possibly exit your filthy mouth that could change my view of Anne an iota. She is so much more than the narrow definition of worthy you seek to pin on her. This depraved existence you lead, the one spent harassing girls and reducing them to less than they are, this is the reason you lost her. You lost a long time ago, so stop making a fool of yourself, and leave her the hell alone.”

 

Her face was burning red by the end of her tirade, a fist clenched by her side. 

 

Rick had the sense to look taken aback for a brief moment before that sleazy smirk took over his face once more, his words hitting her like a branding iron, “Well, we’ll just have to see what everyone else thinks of perfect little Annie Bonacieux, now won’t we?”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take knowing Anne well for Jeanne to be able to sense her panic. 

 

Jeanne was a pacer; once she was worried, her feet would not still. But Anne, Anne stopped moving entirely. She sat with her back pressed against the door, eyes blankly staring ahead as a million thoughts flickered through the blue of her eyes. 

 

“He can ruin me,” Anne remarked plainly, her face stoic, “But he won’t. Not yet.”

 

“Are you sure?” Jeanne did not dare to ask _how_. She could not bear to. 

 

Anne cracked a slanted smile, her chagrin evident, “Rick Liu knows that having leverage over me is far more effective than ruining my reputation before there really is anything for him to make me lose. He’ll wait.”

 

“We will stop him, Anne.”

 

“Us and what army, Jeanne?” Anne snapped, running a hand through her hair. 

 

Jeanne sighed, her shoulders falling as she made to apologise, before being cut off by Anne. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

Jeanne’s eyes were wide, her knuckles white around the grip of her sabre, “Whatever for? I have only made matters worse, have I not?”

 

“No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”


End file.
